


you're getting to be a habit to me

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 1940s, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Bucky Barnes Feels, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Modern Day Setting, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Steve Rogers Feels, Stucky - Freeform, age of ultron scene where wanda messes with steves head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 10:09:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6002014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>one minute Steve is in the midst of fighting and the next he's standing in a dance hall with a familiar face telling him that the war is over and he wants to believe it.</p><p>(let this anguish become our love song<br/>let this pain be the bridge that leads us back)</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're getting to be a habit to me

**Author's Note:**

> for reference, the gif set that inspired this fic  
> http://keepbuckybaby.tumblr.com/post/139282389960/buildabuckybear-marvelshuffle-marvel-shuffle

_We expected something_  
_Something better than before_  
_We expected something more_

[[start a war](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k1UwnMJ-5KE)]

The first thing that Steve notices is the music - call him a sap but that particular tune is one he has heard a million times over while watching Bucky spin and dazzle his dates until their cheeks were flushed and hand held onto Bucky's long enough to make Steve feel like skipping out on both their dates. He hadn't, of course, or at least not more than twice but never with the same person and he hadn't even bothered with excuses because he knew Bucky would see right through them.

The dance hall is bathed in warm lighting, lights strung up on either side and bodies sensually sway to the melody - it feels like the homecoming that he never had the chance to experience and it should feel welcoming but there is only bitter retribution blending with confusion. There is a gut clenching throbbing in his heart that is an ever present reminder of gaping absence as if someone had reached in and scratched with sharpened talons until he bled.  There is no honor in a soldier choosing to be his own destruction, to die by his own hand while still continuing to wake every morning because death is a privilege that he does not deserve.

Starched uniform rubs up against his forearms and matches the pleated trousers and shined shoes - he's never been more uncomfortable or felt so alien in a uniform in his entire life. This uniform was earned by another Steve Rogers - the one who blindly followed and convinced himself with every step that he was fighting the good fight. That's not who he is anymore. That man (who loved with all of his heart) (who couldn't choose between two loves so he kept them both and oh how he wanted to keep them) (who willingly went to his death with the patriotic lie that he was only doing this for his country and not because he lost his past - his future on a speeding train that held the men who'd hurt him) was a relic and nothing more.

He spins around the room, cataloging faces and recognizing those who hadn't been fortunate enough to have survived the war (he couldn't forget them even if he tried and he had) - eyes seeking a familiar face against impossible odds.

He's standing in the midst of everything he'll never have and perhaps heaven is real or it would be if it meant stepping on Bucky's toes or staring into Peggy's eyes for the rest of eternity but that is neither here nor there and he's painfully alone in a crowded dance hall - heaven is only hell with a veil on.

*****

Just when he's about to succumb to the ache in his chest, he hears a familiar voice calling his name.

"Steve?"

He stands at parade's rest in a spotless uniform, hair slicked back with pomade and he's an exact replica of Bucky before the war had ravished him in every way a person could be. If someone were to give Steve the chance to build an afterlife, to fill in the tiny details that day to day living swept under the rug, to go back and do things differently this time (he'd kiss Bucky in front of the Eiffel Tower with stars overhead and wouldn't give a damn who saw it, he'd hold Bucky's hand and lavish kisses on each knuckle for every punch they'd delivered on his behalf, he'd....he'd love a little harder) this would be the shape it took on.

"Bucky?"

He cannot speak - there are cotton fields growing in his throat and all of the water in the world couldn't bring relief. It's as if his brain made a pact with his heart - to never breach the silence 'lest it all disappear and there are so many words that die on the tip of his tongue.

Bucky steps into his personal space and Steve  _craves_ \- proximity is the line that separates the future and the present; a certain blue eyed wonder had informed him of this after Steve had stupidly stood too close to his date and made the mistake of trying to hold her hand.

"May I have this dance?," Bucky asks - hand extended palm up and waiting, eyes that were never good at hiding feelings mirror Steve's longing and confusion. Bucky is a tranquil river with warning signs - neon lights flashing _He will be your destruction_ and Steve wants to learn how to swim by touching, by treading dark waves and dancing until his feet hurt.

Bucky is a physical reminder of just how much is missing in the life outside of this dream, this vision and Steve doesn't want to remember what it feels like to wake up in a cold sweat as decades catch up to him until 1932 becomes a heavily modified 2013.

 _Let me sleep,_ he thinks, _let the ice that once served as a casket seep into my veins until my heart becomes a eulogy._

"Come on buddy," Bucky says; voice breaking through the numbness that Steve calls surviving.

Bucky takes him by the hand and leads him to the center of the dance hall with a smile playing at the corner of his lips and there is no sadness nor seething rage in his eyes (not at all like how he'd been the last time Steve had saw him) when he splays a warm hand against Steve's back and begins to lead.

Bucky hums to the music and softly murmurs the lyrics as they dance to Mel Torme's _You're Getting to Be a Habit to Me -_

_You've got me in your clutches and I can't get free  
You're getting to be a habit with me_

_I used to think your love was something that I could take or leave alone  
_

_but now I couldn't do without my supply_

The music swells around them as they dance and if Steve's hand moves to the right until his thumb is brushing against Bucky's pulse then it's no matter - the heart wants what the heart wants and this is the only dream he has stumbled into with eyes wide open and heart on the line.

"Sorry," he mumbles as he steps on Bucky's foot for the second time in less than 5 minutes.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for," Bucky replies as Steve moves to put space between his foolish thumb and Bucky's neck but Bucky simply places it back where it was.

He couldn't be more wrong - Steve could fill up whole days and weeks with the apologies he never had the chance to voice but now is not the time nor place.

When it happens once more Bucky leans in and presses a gentle kiss against Steve's lips and it feels like electric - like lightning in a bottle, shaken until it glows.

It occurs to Steve that he should be concerned about the fact that they're in public and it's 1945 - they're playing a dangerous game but he doesn't care. He wants to gift wrap this moment and tuck it away in a safe place for those nights where he wakes with blood on his hands that he can't see or touch.

"Always wanted to do that," Bucky whispers.

 "So why didn't you? I wouldn't have said no."

The room seems to quieten around them, the music takes on a distant sound and Steve isn't ready to let go yet.

_No, not yet._

_Don't take this from me._

They both pause - sensing the shift but everything appears to be the same around them.

"What was I 'sposed to say, Steve? Hey pal I'm in love with you, think we can neck sometime and maybe you could be my sweetheart?"

"My answer would've stayed the same, Buck. Wait...you're _what?"_

Bucky's face paled as if he were horrified that he'd let his secret slip - had given the words a voice and wings.

"Forget I said anything okay? Let's dance."

Typical Bucky - wearing his heart on his sleeve then ripping it off when it got too heavy.

"Buck. Bucky look at me," Steve urged as Bucky's eyes darted around the room.

If this moment were their last, if they were two condemned men sitting down to their last meal then Steve was going to savor every crumb that fell from that table and he'd die at Bucky's side knowing that they gave this their best shot.

When Bucky refused to look him in the eye Steve decided that words were not enough, they were beyond talking at this point and he'd waited longer than any man helplessly tragically in love should ever have to.

He curled a finger under Bucky's chin and tilted it up - gently sank his teeth into lips that were made for kissing (sinful lips that could make a man weak with one taste) and sucked until Bucky was [kissing](http://givemebackmybucky.tumblr.com/post/139283030472/captain-stucky-17-help-me-jesus-just-imagine) him back; desperate hunger mixing with tenderness - one hand gripping Steve's hip and pressing into him - the other wrapped around Steve's tie, causing it to come undone.

The last time Steve had felt this alive was when Peggy had kissed him for the first and last time - it had been ages and loving Bucky was something time had never dulled. Kissing him was like watching the sunset for the first time and wondering how you'd felt its warmth on your shoulders your whole life yet hadn't turned around to experience it in all its shades of apricot orange and streaks of pale pink until this moment.

Bucky broke the kiss, breathless and giving Steve the dopiest most lovesick smile and really, Steve could get used to this if he could only get rid of the knowledge that beautiful things always came to an untimely end.

"Why are we here, Buck?"

Bucky's smile fell and his face took on a solemn expression - "The war is over, Steve. We made it to the end of the line. We can finally go home."

It's a gut punch, a blow to the head that he never sees coming; a truth he'd been trying to push out of his mind.

Before he has a chance to respond, the room empties around them and Bucky is gone with no trace of him ever having been there. Tables remain adorned with flowers and candles that haven't been lit, chairs were neatly pushed under the tables and all Steve could see was _empty._

It's like losing Bucky all over again and for the second time in Steve's life he wishes that he could get blackout drunk or at least tipsy.

*****

He wakes up from the daydream/nightmare that Wanda had created and the world might as well be a black hole that's quickly pulling him into its gravitational field - that was a peek of a future he'll never see and no matter how many times he screws his eyes closed it refuses to return.

The past does not belong to the two of them but the future is theirs for the taking and Steve will find Bucky or die trying.

**Author's Note:**

> good god this was sad af but the author needed it because she's 98% angst and she should probably stop referring to herself in 3rd person now. 
> 
> I'm so sorry for your feels, truly I am


End file.
